Blood In the Snow
by Mercury Lamre
Summary: An American journalist thought he would have a pleasant time in Stalingrad, Russia. He is soon mistaken when he ends up behind bars in a Axis Prisoner Of War camp.


_Ciao! Mercury here. I had to write this for an English project, mainly for writing and vocabulary. (I got an A+ w) But decided to share it here. _

_I own Simon, Klaus, and Søren. And Løzenhov, Russia. I ended up making it up. I swear.  
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_I do not own anything else.  
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_Enjoy!~  
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"I don't need Stalin interfering anymore than he has! We take Stalingrad! Tonight!" a German voice boomed over a loudspeaker. "We will chastise the Soviets! We will show them what the Nazi army is made of!"

"Heil! Heil Hitler!" shouted the German army, as they exulted and cheered, preparing for their march east.

The Nazi leader smirked as he turned to look at the World Map on his table. Hitler smiled his sadistic smile as he took a marker and drew the swastika over Siberia.

"You will be mine."

It was just one of those normal, chilly days in the summer in Stalingrad. A group of Americans who were visiting the city on business were reenacting the famous World War I: Battle of Britain to a group of little children, proving the point that the Nazis were horrible people. It overall went very well. Afterwards, Simon and his group were just enjoying themselves, but then a siren called from the Main Tower in town. The group dispersed, as they all knew that it meant invasion. Two sirens were for bombs. There was only one. The lone American frantically looked around to seek shelter, but there was none. Simon looked west to see the Germans advancing ever closer. The American ran into a little alley, hoping to take cover temporarily.

The alley helped for a couple minutes, but all that could be heard was shouting, gunshots, screams, and fire claiming some buildings. As the boy took off to look for a different place, he ran into a group of Germans. One officer was shouting at him in German, probably about 'Get back in there chicken! No running away!', or 'You're such a coward! Fight!' as Simon was in a German uniform from the reenactment. So with that, Simon was forced to join them, and a gun was forced into his hands. He didn't even bother using it.

The group moved forward, but was quickly surrounded by a group of large Soviets. The German officer started shouting in German again, and all Simon could catch was 'Hitler', 'Nazi', and 'Germany'. It took a few moments of shouting, until the German group surrendered, Simon in it.

"_That wasn't much of a fight.. More like an __acquiesce__ to me. He seemed like a very __contentious__ person to me…_ _Or at least he was,"_ the American thought, as the group of about 20 Germans were marched into a Soviet prison, where they remained until the battle was over. In the prison in Stalingrad, the Germans were allocated throughout the cells based on build. Simon ended up with a bunch of skinny men who weren't the bravest of them all. It lasted three days, and the Soviets came out with a win. Stalingrad was safe, but the Germans were not. Those in the prison were forced to march long miles to a camp outside of Løzenhov, a town north of Stalingrad. The journey way long, tiring, and wet.

It took the POWs two days to reach Løzenhov's prison camp. The Germans were branded with a mark on their arm, giving them numbers. The brander had a certain pride in making the mark on every one of them perfect. After that, everyone was placed into their cells, and locked inside. Simon had one other cellmate, a large, blonde German, whose messy hair covered his face. The American tried to say hello, but ended up fighting him instead. The next few days, Simon started warming up to his German cellmate, despite his parents' efforts when he was a kid, stating that all Germans were horrible people. The blonde man, Klaus Hartmann, returned the kinder feelings. They went from acquaintances to best friends in a couple of weeks.

They told each other everything. Simon's side was how he was from America with an American father and Italian mother, how he ended up in the POW camp, how he wanted to leave. Klaus listened intently, believing his story. The German told his best friend how he ended up working for Hitler, and about his family. The two did almost everything together. Klaus started teaching the younger man some German, which he practiced writing down in his journal.

But time started to pass, and Simon was slowly draining his sanity from being in the prison camp for so long. He would start rocking back and forth, laugh and cry over nothing, and even called himself German. Klaus looked at him with a worried expression.

"Are you alright Simon? You don't look so vhell," he asked, sitting next to the boy. Simon nodded, but continued to rock back and forth against the wall in the courtyard.

"Peachy! We're in a prison camp, of course I'm not well. No need to worry!" the American replied. Klaus looked at him in disbelief. He went to a Russian and asked if he could get someone to check Simon out. The Soviet only laughed and walked away.

One evening in the summer of 1942, Klaus sat down with Simon to have a talk.

"Vhe're going to get out of here. Together. Alright? We can climb the fence, break down the wall, kill the guards-," the German said, only to be interrupted by a quick slap across the face from Simon.

"Are you crazy? There's no chance we're getting out! We'll be tortured! We'll be killed if caught! It's much safer staying here!" the American retaliated.

"And starve to death? The Soviets aren't going to let us go after the vhar has ended… If any on us survived. They'll kill us and say that ve all starved or something. If ve get out, ve can go back to Berlin. You can go home to America… Ve can resume our normal lives!"

"I have no home to travel to if my mom and dad found out I was here,"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. My dad's fighting with America against Japan, and my mom's hosting the 'Kill-All-The-Nazi's' Brigade," The American explained. Klaus frowned and thought over something for a moment.

"Then you can come stay vhith me. Hanna vhon't mind if ve have someone else living vhith us," he suggested. Simon's jaw dropped.

"N-No! It's alright! I can manage on my own! I-I can stay with Nancy or Merlin, or Jonatha-," the boy started, before stopping when Klaus looked hurt. "I-I mean.. I don't want to be a burden on you and your family… You've all suffered so much already…" he added, looking down at the ground.

"You vhon't be. But if you're going to come stay vhith me, vhe're going to need to get out first. Vhe're going to break out of here. Understood?"

"…Understood."

Ever since that day Simon and Klaus talked about escaping, Simon had been debating with himself.

"Well… if we kill some guards, we might not make it…. Klaus has much more military experience than I do, so I'd definitely be the first to go… Then he would probably too… If we climb the fences, the Soviets won't hesitate to shoot us… Break the wall? Well, it could work, but the Soviets would be right on our tail… I… I don't know what to do! Anything I think of, it ends with one or both of us dying! But Klaus is right… We can't stay here any longer… What can I do? Killing myself won't do anything either," he thought, while lying in his bed one night. He listened to the sound of his cellmate's breathing as he slept and sighed. Simon knew that it wasn't going to be easy. As much as he wanted to survive, he knew one of them was going to go if they escaped.

And that killed him on the inside.

The two decided that the hole in the wall was the best chance of getting out. So both ended up grabbing the toughest things they could find. It went from spoons to chicken bones, to wood. They dug and dug a little each night so it wasn't too loud or too noticeable. The first two weeks past by, and they had successfully made a hole through the wall, large enough to fit a hand if you tried. They would each get a little dirt, and stuff it in their sleeves, and when out in the courtyard, they would dump out some of the dirt and rock fragments that they had dug out. More and more weeks past by, and the hole was getting ever so larger. Klaus kept tutoring Simon in German like everything was normal.

But one Soviet guard was getting suspicious. Søren Nikolov, the head guard, kept hearing noises during one night shift. He passed by the two's cell and overheard something along the lines of 'It's getting bigger! We can do it!'. He growled in disgust and kept walking.

Autumn went by quickly, and it soon became winter. The two cellmates took a break from digging for a few nights to catch up on missed sleep and to regain their energy.

"You know, Christmas is coming up," Klaus pointed out, as he looked up at the ceiling from his bed. Simon smiled.

"Christmas… Yeah. It is almost, isn't it? Well, Merry almost Christmas, Klaus," the American man laughed, putting his journal back under his own bed, before moving it out of the way so the hole was visible. It had grown a lot, and Simon could fit through. Klaus couldn't, as his shoulders were too broad to fit. "I'll do some digging tonight. You can rest." Klaus smiled and nodded, before closing his eyes. Simon dug for about an hour, before he heard a Soviet guard approaching. The guard unlocked the cell, and swung the door open. Simon was on his feet horrified.

"K-Klaus! W-W-Wake up!" Simon shouted at the German. Klaus grumbles, but opened his eyes and sat up.

"Vhat is it Simo- Oh _mein gott_*," he said. The American gulped. The guard was only in to give the two some food as an apprentice to a guard, but dropped the plates when he saw the hole.

"Помогите! Помогите!(Help! Help!)" the Soviet called out, reaching in his pocket for a whistle. Klaus shot up and covered the man's mouth.

"Shut up! Ve don't need them to come here! Quick! Simon! Get out of here! Now!" the German shouted, ramming the Soviet's head into the wall to silence him. The American was too shocked to move. He stared at his German friend in disbelief. Klaus cursed at him. "Don't make me say it again! Get out! Before they catch you!"

"No! Not without you! You have to come to!" Simon called back. The German shut the cell door, and closed his eyes, listening to the shouts of some of the Soviets coming down the large metal stairs.

"Simon… I vhon't fit through there. I'll hold the Russians back for some time. You are to get out. You know vhere to go to," he replied, as Søren burst through the cell door and grabbed Klaus, shoving him against the wall by the neck. The German winced in pain, as the Russian's grip tightened. The American in the room ran over to the hole and grabbed a rock and threw it at Søren's head, thankfully just hitting him above the ear. Søren dropped Klaus and stumbled back, shaking off the pain, and stormed over to Simon, grabbing his shirt and pulling out a small knife from his pocket and pointed it at Simon's neck.

"Leaving so soon? I'll show you why our guests are to stay, you worthless wastrel he hissed into the other man's ear. Klaus stumbled up from the floor, and grabbed a plate shard that had fallen earlier. The German poked the tip, to make sure it was sharp enough, and grabbed Søren off of his friend. Simon gasped in air, and looked frantically at the two fighting.

"Simon! Go!" The German shouted, as their fistfight began. Klaus smashed the the plate onto the other's head, causing it to shatter. Blood started seeping down the Russian's face, and he punched the German in the gut, causing the man to lose his grip on the guard. Their fight ended with blood getting spilled everywhere. It was the last moments though that affected Simon the most. As Klaus was suffocating Søren, the Russian shoved his small knife into the German's heart. The blonde's grip was weakening, as blood starting pouring out of the wound. Simon shouted at Klaus, and pushed the Soviet guard into the wall roughly, causing him to hit his head and slide down to the ground. The German winced as he hit the ground. The American quickly rushed to his side.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Klaus, just hold on!" Simon frantically said, tearing off the German's shirt, and carefully removing the knife and tossing it aside. The German started breathing more ruggedly.

"G-Get out... Vhile you have... T-Time.." Klaus murmured, biting his bottom lip afterwards. Simon pressed down on the wound with the German's shirt, to try and stop all the blood. "S-Simon... I... I vhon't make it... Save yourself vhile you can. Please... Just leave me," the German pleaded, staring up at him with begging blue eyes, both starting to get a little cloudier with each moment. Tears stained the American man's cheeks as he stopped pressing down and took back his blood-stained hands.

"_E-E-Es tut mir leid__Klaus_*," Simon said with a frown as he went over to the hole and slowly climbed out, looking at the last moment of his best friend, who lay there motionless. As he heard the shouts of other Russian guards, he slipped out of the hole and into the wilderness.

The Russians quickly made it into the cell, but were too late. Søren had hit his head too hard, and died from the impact as it cracked his skull. Klaus was rested peacefully on the floor, with a blanket over him, eyes closed, with a peaceful expression. One Soviet leaned down to check his pulse, not surprised to find that there wasn't any. He was growing colder. The Russian guards removed the bodies and buried them.

Simon on the other hand, was busy making his way through the blinding snow, dripping blood on his way West. He only stopped once to see blood on the snow, and then carried on.

It was Christmas Eve. Snow settled on the roads, and drifted slowly from the sky. The shops were quiet, and the trees were lit with colored lights, joined with a star on the top in the town's square. Simon bowed his head as he walked across the tiny, snow-covered street. He was dressed a little more appropriately, and was at least somewhat cleaner. He read the numbers on the side of the door to confirm he was at the right house. The American walked up the stairs and gently knocked on the door. He looked down at his stomach to see that he really was still emaciated from being almost starved to death in the wilderness of Russia. A few moments later, a little blonde girl, no older than nine, opened it. Her large, blue eyes stared at him for a second, before she turned and ran back inside, calling out for her mother.

"Mamma! A man is at the door!" she called out. A few moments later, an older woman in her early 30s walked up to the doorway.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Hartmann," Simon said, bowing politely.

"May I help you?" she replied, in a tired voice.

"Ah, I'm sorry. My name is Simon Gallagher… I.. I was Klaus' cellmate back in Russia,"

Mrs. Hartmann's eyes widened at the sound of her husband's name. She invited him in and closed the door behind Simon. He has been with them ever since.

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_Hi, it's Mercury :D Thanks for reading! 3 Please review. It'd mean a lot to me. A lot of work went into this w May make an afterstory if I get enough reviews._


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